Downsizing. A Wave of Nostalgia - Dr. Ed Iannucilli

Downsizing. A Wave of Nostalgia - Dr. Ed Iannucilli

It was a melancholy day in the yard, a frequent haven over these past twenty-five years. The zinnias were waving in the gentle breeze. Sure, it was the gentle breeze that triggered them, but those elegant beauties were sending a personal message ---- We will miss you. We will miss you.

When we bought our Italianate Victorian home, our landscape architect suggested we design the yard as the home was designed, center staircase, each side a mirror image of the other. And so too was the land designed with a circular center plot of flowers and a mirror image of trees and shrubs on either side. The vegetable garden and grape arbor were set in the distance.

Today, save for the singing of the birds and the screech of a squirrel, it its quiet. It’s Sunday. Not much doing in the neighborhood.  A flock of migrating blackbirds has arrived; at the feeder, in the birdbath, patrolling the grounds, pecking for treats, chirping with delight.  Two woodpeckers accompany them . . .  a downy, and the king, a Flicka. The birds seemed more attendant today. They came closer, looked at me, and sang.

GET THE LATEST BREAKING NEWS HERE -- SIGN UP FOR GOLOCAL FREE DAILY EBLAST

And another joy, the ruby-throated hummingbirds. I’ve waited all summer for them, and here they were. ----Hello. -----Goodbye.

I am sitting under a transparent umbrella as I gaze at the purples, blues, yellows, emeralds, and verdant greens of hydrangeas, nasturtium, zinnias, marigolds, and in the distance, to the vegetable garden, mingled among the tomato, zucchini, and cucumber plants, the two hibiscuses bearing vibrant pink flowers, the honeysuckle trumpets attended by the hummingbirds, a trellis bearing roses wedded to clematis, and wind chimes chanting a Bach cantata, or so it seemed.

Among the now dormant peonies, I let the milkweed grow. Sure, it’s a weed, but for the monarch, now flittering about, it’s a home, a rest stop where they will lay their eggs. I wish there were more monarchs.

The woodchucks and possums are absent. I won’t miss them. They enjoyed a family feast for long enough.

This seemed the day to take an unusual look into nostalgia. I’ve done that often, but today, it seemed different. Perhaps I’m immersed in it because I will leave this backyard, soon. Or perhaps because nostalgia is a  feeling that attends age. Or am I wistful? I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that life and energy will continue in this yard as they will in our next. And that comforts me.

What I’ll miss most are the sounds of nature and the calm, the welcoming calm. What I will miss is the angle of the August light as the sunlight filters through the branches and sparkles on the dew of the grass. What I will miss is this place.

It’s noon time. The birds are resting, no longer splashing in the birdbath. It’s quieter. It’s peaceful and comforting and reassuring. A new journey is about to begin, one that will enrich my life in its own way.